The sun was setting over New York, giving the sky a thick orange tint and golden edges to the clouds. Chris didn't appreciate the beauty of the evening, though, where he stood huddling in the shadow of a building clad in just jeans and a tank top.

He had been out hunting for dinner in what had seemed like an abandoned parking lot next to East River. Unfortunately it hadn't been as abandoned as he had assumed, something he'd experienced when a wild-eyed hobo had grabbed his jacket and pressed him against a brick wall while screaming at him to get off of his property. Chris had managed to wrangle out of his grip and escape into the river, but unfortunately his old jacket had been left with the aggressive homeless man.

He had crossed the river and climbed up on the other side, somewhere in Brooklyn, he believed. The area was unfamiliar to him. He got a few looks from passerby's, and crossed his arms in front of him while moving into the shadow of a building where he'd hopefully be less noticable. The cool evening air or the fact that he was still soaking wet didn't bother him, but the fact that he was exposed did. Without his jacket, all he had was a rather dirty tank top and some baggy jeans. Not that his mutation was easy to conceal to begin with, but parading around your slimy grey skin after dark was just begging for trouble.

He doubted any stores would still be open at this time. Not that he had any money on him (he had had a handful of dollar bills in his jacket) but perhaps they wouldn't have noticed if someone had... borrowed an item from the store. Chris sighed and started to walk along the street; he might as well try to find his way back to his van, he had a couple of hoodies in the back. It was going to be a long walk and a swim, though.

That's when he noticed the man who had just exited the building complex further up the street. Tall, African American... and holding on to a garment bag. One of those you got your clothes in after leaving it at the dry-cleaner. Chris looked over his shoulder - the street was fairly empty except for the two of them, there were a few people farther ahead but they were too far away to stop him. He started to walk after the man who was going in the different direction. The young mutant tried to keep a brisk pace without making too much noise. As he closed in on him, he made up a quick plan: grab the jacket, flee to the left into the alley, double back to the river. He hoped that the man wouldn't react quickly enough to stop him.

When he got close enough he hesitated for a moment: the his arm shot out and he grabbed the garment bag. With a swift moment he snagged it from the man's grip and bolted into the alley next to them with his heart beating wildly in his chest. 

Malakai was smiling.  He had just received a call to come style a shoot.  Apparently the original stylist was not up to snuff, and the photographers assistant recommended her friend, who just happened to be a very not busy Malakai.  Of course Malakai was available, and no the last minute call was no inconvenience, at least that's what Malakai had told the photographer.  He really wasn't doing anything, but you had to treat photographers with a velvet glove, they tended to be a little touchy.  Besides, the last minute phone call could only mean one thing, desperation.  And desperation always equaled a big commissions check, if Malakai could save the day.  

The photographer had informed Malakai the idea and them the shoot and then game the address of the set.  Malakai in turned rummaged through his own wardrobe, picking out a number of jeans and shirts that he had collected from other shoots and shows that he had done.  Designers were always donating clothes to stylists, trying to get their clothes on more clients.  Then he called a friend, a designer whose look seemed to fit what the photographer had described, and he told her to meet him at the set with a few selections.  As soon as he was done with her he through on some clothes, a black fitting v-neck, blue jeans that looked dusted with silver and some black boots.  He put his items in a garment bag and slung it over his shoulder and left his building.  

This unexpected job, and the money it would bring meant he would have enough to pay for rent for at least six months on the office space he wanted for his imaging consultation firm.  Everything was falling into place real nice, that is until the garment bag was snatched from the crook of his arm.

"What the..." he barely had time to say before the culprit took off down an alley.

"Are you freaking kidding me!" Malakai yelled as he took off after the thief.  

His mind was definitely not thinking straight, or about the inherent danger in chasing a thief down an alley.  He was thinking about the job, the check, his firm, and most of all his designer clothes being handle by someone who could not appreciate them properly.  

Chris dared to glance over his shoulder when he heard the man shout after him. The man was chasing him, and he seemed pretty upset. Well, it was understandable. He had just lost his garment, after all. But Chris had hoped he wouldn't be angry enough to follow him; after all, the guy already had a jacket. Why you'd need two at the same time was completely crazy.

Chris was not a swift runner since his legs were more adapted for swimming, and with a pang of dread he realized his follower was gaining on him. The grey mutant tore down a garbage can as he passed it, hopefully the trash on the ground would be enough to stop, or at least distract, his follower. And if it didn't... well, he must have really liked that jacket.

The mutant rounded a corner and suddenly came to a halt. Not far in front of him was a brick wall - this alley was a dead end. A car stood parked in front of the wall, a white transport car with a pizzeria logo on the side. His eyes darted all over the alley as he fervently looked for another way of escape - no, it seemed like the wall was his only choice. He quickly started moving again, aware that the other man was probably right behind him. He took a running leap up on the car's hood, and then stepped up to the car's roof. The garment bag was still in his hand. He put a hand and one elbow on the top of the wall, prepared to heave himself up over it and land on the other side unless the guy managed to get a hold off him first.

Malakai refused to give up the chase.  It seemed like this thief wasn't particularly fast anyway.  He continued to chase the guy, but cursed loudly as he plod through the garbage from the pushed over garbage can.

"Theses are Paciotti you freak!"  Malakai yelled as the errant thief turned the corner.

Finally a little sense came back into the young fashionisto's head and he slowed down.  He didn't know what could be waiting around the corner.  It didn't seem like the thief was attempting to lead him into a trap, but then again who knew.  Malakai looked at his watch and groaned.  His designer friend would be arriving to the set soon.  She could definitely buy some time, but Malakai needed to arrive at the photo shoot soon, if he wanted to get credit and get paid.   

He rounded the corner slowly, and saw the thief, on the roof of a car, preparing to vault himself over a brick wall.  
"Oh no you don't! Not with my clothes." Malakai ran towards the car, and then stopped.  He focused on the garment bag and felt that familiar tugging behind his eyes.  At the bottom of the bag, a disturbance in the area appeared, something akin to a golden tinged bubble.  Where it touched, the garment bag began to disappear.  Instantly another bubble, this one silver in color appeared above Malakai's outstretched hands, the garment bag began to appear from the bubble.

"Clothes" he said, laughing slightly.  "I'm a living breathing Paige Matthews" he thought.  

Chris could hear the man's angry voice, but it sounded as if he was too far away to catch the thief. For a second he felt weirdly triumphant. He didn't find any joy in stealing; he didn't consider it to be wrong and didn't feel bad about it, but he didn't get a kick from it. The chase, however... Chris had been through his fair share of chases, and had decided that running for your life was awful. Hiding, hoping your pursuers would pass you, feeling your heart beat so loud against your ribs it felt as if it was trying to break out... but then you'd catch a glimpse of the lake, make a run for it. The moment you broke through the surface and was embraced by the cool water the relief you felt couldn't be explained in words. That was what he felt at that moment. Relief.

Chris prepared himself for the jump, but just as he shifted his weight the garment bag just... disappeared from his hand, and he found himself gripping after empty air. He lost his balance, and took a step backwards to regain it. Unfortunately his bare, clammy foot slid over the smooth surface of the car, and not even his wildly flailing arms could stop him from careening of the car's roof.
As he fell, two scenarios played out in his head. In one scenario, the man had gotten close enough to the car for Chris to land on him. In the other scenario, he was standing too far away and that would mean Chris would land back-first on the pavement. He wasn't sure which scenario he preferred.

Malakai took a step back as the would-be thief fell to the ground, a triumphant grin spreading across his face.  With no regard to the strangers well being, he quickly began to unzip the bag and inspect its contents.

"God in heaven help this man if anything in this bag is messed up" he said aloud as he began to pull the jeans and shirts out.  "And I mean anything, silver button or half loop stitch.  If even a wrinkle is out of place I am going to kill you!" Finally his attention snapped to the fallen thief, his eyes narrowed in anger.  

"Who steals clothes anyway?  You Oliver Twist reject!" Malakai's anger continue to rise instead of fall, and he was seriously contemplating putting his already ruined Paciotti boots in the thief's rib cage a couple of times for good measure.   

The pavement welcomed him with its hard, cold embrace. The impact knocked the air out of him, and he spent a couple of seconds just laying there staring up at the sky while gulping for air and doing a quick damage control. Head not split open? Check. Could he still feel his legs? Check. Something broken? The landing had given him an ugly scrape on his left arm and if the pain on his left side of the torso and hip was anything to go by, he'd have a bruise the size of Canada the next day. That was, of course, if the man didn't kill him on the spot. He seemed clearly upset, even though he'd gotten his clothes back.
Chris tried to apologize, but all he could manage was a weak groan. He rolled over to his stomach so he'd be able to see what the man was doing. For now, he seemed too busy with the contents of the bag to attack.
Chris took a deep breath and tried again.
"I... I am sorry I upset you. I didn't think you'd miss your jacket, since you already have one." Or a shirt, or something like that. Chris wasn't too sure about the terminology. He frowned in a way that clearly communicated what he thought next; why would anyone need more than one jacket?

The man's next question confused him. Who steals clothes? Wasn't the answer really obvious?
"Is that... do you want me to answer or was it a rhetorical question?" he asked hesitantly as he slowly got up on his feet. He leaned his back towards the side of the car for support, shooting wary looks at the man who just seemed to get angrier and angrier. If he would try to attack, the grey mutant wasn't going to take it laying down. Standing up made his head spin, and he realized he needed to gather himself for a moment before he'd be able to bolt. His eyes went over the man, prepared for any sign of trouble.
Then his eyes went back to the garment bag, and widened as he remembered how it had just disappeared right from his grasp. There was one explanation.
"You're a mutant too," he whispered, and then quickly added "Please don't kill me."

He could hear a muffled sound from the inside of the car and quickly turned his head towards the source of the noise. The cab driver had been sitting in the front seat the entire time, Chris had just been so focused on fleeing that he hadn't noticed him. The faint smell of cigarettes was lingering even outside the car, so it wasn't hard to guess why the driver had parked in the alley. The man, who seemed like he desperately wanted to be elsewhere, looked from Chris, to the other mutant, then back to Chris. Then he locked the car from inside.

Malakai bristled, he actually shook with rage as he listened to the thief try to explain. 

"Didn't think I'd...are you serious?  Do you know how much these clothes costs?!  I have several jackets, and I would miss even a button on anyone of them!  The buttons could buy your life you..." he stopped when  he noticed that the car was occupied.  His hair stood up on end though with the last comment the thief made.

"You're a mutant too...Please don't kill me."

"God in heaven!"  Malakai thought to himself.  There were so many things he wanted to do in this moment, run, kick the thief, take back that last statement.  None of these were really going to solve much of anything.  So he did what he could, he began to stare daggers into both the would be rouge and the taxi driver.  If there was one thing Malakai was good it, other than fashion sense and culinary skills, it was expressing emotion, especially rage and displeasure.  He let those emotions fill his face and eyes.  He focused more on the taxi driver, and didn't relent until the man slunk deeper into his seat and moved his hat down over his face.

Once Malakai was satisfied that he and this newly revealed mutant had some degree of privacy he turned his attention to the stranger.  Rage was still playing across his face, but it was slowly being replaced be inquisition.  

"I definitely haven't decided about killing you or not yet," he began, though Malakai was not the murdering type there was no harm in letting everyone remain fearful. "and what do you mean I'm a mutant too?"

How was it possible that even when he tried to calm the other man down all he succeeded in was to make him even angrier? He'd said he was sorry, he'd tried to explain his reasoning, the items in question was back with their original owner... He was at a total loss about what to say to just get an end to this awful, misjudged situation; an end that preferably wouldn't include himself getting injured or killed. Maybe blindly agreeing would make the man less hostile? Chris nodded empathically at the man's statement.
"Yes, the buttons would certainly be worth more than my belongings. I... I did not realize the value. I just wanted a jacket."

The cold stare the man shot his direction shut him up and stopped his nodding. Instead he started to squirm slightly , and it was a relief when the man turned his attention to the driver for a moment.
When the man mentioned that he hadn't made up his mind about killing him or not, Chris swallowed hard. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, and cradled his injured left arm with the right one. He was definitely in over his head.
"And what do you mean I'm a mutant too?"
He was not just in over his head, he was standing in the middle of a minefield. One wrong step could eventually lead to instant destruction. He was pretty sure the other man was a mutant; he'd felt the garment bag disappear from his grip, it hadn't gotten pulled away and he hadn't dropped it. One moment it had been there and in the next it had been back with the original owner. Either the other man was a mutant or Chris had hit his head harder than he thought.

One thing he'd been told over and over again at the mansion had been to never underestimate hostile mutants. There were some really nasty types out there, people who'd turn your insides to mush with a mere thought just because you looked at them wrong. Chris' eyes darted from the other man to the of the alley behind him: his head felt clearer and he had no doubt he'd be able to make a run for it, but the risk that the angered mutant would be able to dissolve him into atoms with a wave of his hands was something he had to take into consideration. Better to try and speak to him, maybe he'd get tired and walk away.
Pressingly aware that the wrong answer could lead to possible integration on the spot, Chris forced himself to meet the other's hard glare... which didn't make it easier to find the right words.
"Well, because... you did the thing. With the... the bag. I could feel it disappear from my hand."
He blinked twice. Perhaps it would be wise to offer the possible mutant a way out in case he didn't feel like admitting his abilities, or if there really was some other explanation to the disappearing bag.
"Of course, I could be wrong," he added hurriedly. "Maybe I misunderstood. I don't mean any harm. Don't want a fight."

Malakai's face began to soften, not in sympathy though that was warring in his mind as well, but in further curiosity.  Both at the thief's circumstances, and his mutant status.  Malakai had never met another mutant, at least he didn't think he had.  No one had ever come out and said it at least, so this could possibly be his first encounter with someone like him.  

"Of course my first mutant meeting would be with someone who tried to steal my clothes." Malakai thought to himself and then scoffed.

"All you need is Sarah McLachlan singing and you'd be perfect for one of those save the children commercials" he said, humor and sarcasm dripping in his tone.  

"And yes, I took my clothes back from you without lifting a finger, and if you ever steal from me again I'll transport you into an active volcano!"  The thief did not need to know that Malakai's abilities had no effect on living organisms.  He was quite alright with allowing the vagrant to continue to fear him.  At least the chances of getting robbed again, by this particular pick pocket, would be minimal.  Of course if he was really stealing for survival, that was something Malakai could possibly understand.  He had never fallen that far, but people had to eat and stay warm.  You couldn't fault someone for trying to live.

"But I can fault you for stealing a garment bag that cost more than my rent, let alone the total costs of the clothes in the bag!" he thought.  

"Why don't you have a jacket anyway?" he said as he began to place this clothing back into the garment bag.  He was technically in a rush, but clothing was Malakai's life, and finding someone lacking did not sit well with him.  He definitely was not even contemplating handing over one of his own designer effects, but a functional jacket could be found at any thrift store.  

"I hope you are watching Jesus.  I'm being very nice to the person who tried to steal from me.  Put that in the Book please." the young translocating mutant sent up mentally to his chosen deity.  

It took Chris a moment to get the Sarah McLachlan reference; spending three years in the woods with just a radio as your only link to civilization put you out of the loop a bit. But the commercials in questions had been around when he'd lived at the mansion too, so when he got the other man's jab he frowned. He wasn't sure he like the implications. Despite his short stature he was an adult, and getting referred to as an Oliver Twist reject or a poor street-living child in a sappy commercial felt a bit demeaning. Especially since the other mutant couldn't be that much older than Chris. He had a mature way of speaking which made it hard for the grey mutant to guess his age, but not over 30, he'd wager.
However, Chris had tried to steal his belongings, after all. The haughty mutant had deserved the right to a few insults on Chris behalf, and slinging insults seemed to have a calming effect on him. Chris should probably just keep agreeing instead of trying to correct him.
"Funny," he said in an absolute deadpan voice.

The mutant's comment about transporting him into an active volcano conjured an image vivid enough to make Chris wince. He enthusiastically shook his head to show that he had no intentions of stealing anything from the other mutant ever again.
"I will not, no need to transport anyone anywhere," he concluded with emphasis on the last two words.

When the man asked why he didn't have a jacket Chris looked down on his bare, clammy arms. He didn't like standing there in just a tank top, it made him feel exposed.
"I lost it in a scuffle with a hobo," he admitted in the same tone of voice somebody might say I lost my wallet on the train, yes, it's a bit embarrassing that I was so unobservant, but sometimes it happens. To clarify, he added: "He didn't like that I was in his parking lot, and he moved really quietly. I managed to escape into the river, though."
His yellow bulging eyes unfocused for a moment when he remembered the angry homeless man. Back then it would have been really useful to have the other mutant's powers, especially if he could teleport himself. For a brief moment he wondered what it would be like, zipping from one place to another just by thinking about it. Chris started to fidget with his webbed hands in front of him, absentmindedly tugging at first the left hand's fingers and then the right's. He wanted to know, and the other mutant hadn't seemed to mind discussing his powers.
"Can you transport yourself too?"

Malakai began to focus on the strangers physical appearance.  He noticed the gray skin and yellow eyes and wanted to take a step back.  He had heard of mutants whose mutations changed their physical appearance, had even seen a bird beaked woman on the news once.  This was his first time meeting someone, and he had to admit to himself, he was quite glad his mutation did not change his outward appearance.  

"No I can't transport myself."  No need to compound the lie, then the guy might want a demonstration.  A demonstration Malakai couldn't give, and if the thief knew how limited the ability was, control of the situation might slip from Malakai's hands.

"So other than being a lousy thief, what can you do?" he asked.  "And what's your name?  Or at least what's something I can call you other than thief."

As he was talking, Malakai was looking at the stranger's body, taking mental measurements and assessments.  
"As small as he is he could probably wear a medium and be comfortable.  Something a little fitting be still with some wiggle room.  That gray skin is the trick though.  A pale gold should match it quite nice without making him look sick.  Might make his eyes a little less unnerving as well" he thought to himself.   Presentation and presence were a sacred art form to Malakai, ones he counted himself an adept in. 

Chris just nodded when the other said that he couldn't transport himself.  He didn't protest or feel offended when the other called him a lousy thief, because it was true. Since he was a thief who had failed to get away; so yes, he was lousy. He was mildly surprised that the other man actually seemed to be curious about Chris' life - maybe he didn't have so much contact with other mutants. This made Chris relax a bit. 

Before Chris had the opportunity to answer the car's engine started. Chris spun around at the sudden noise, but it just seemed as if the driver had had enough of hanging in an alley with the two of them and had decided to defy the other mutant's stared daggers. The car drove past them, giving them a wide berth, and then rounded the corner and was out of sight. Chris turned his attention back to the man and shrugged.
"I don't do too much," was his answer to the previous query. "I swim and fish and hunt. Goes hand in hand with my mutation, really."

When the man asked for his name, or something else he could call him, he just said "Chris." He'd never had the need to create a code name for himself; he had no secret identity to protect, no family around that could be tracked down. Some of his friends (okay, mostly Saphirus) had tried to come up with a good code name, but nothing stuck... something he was glad for, since most of them had been downright awful. Like The Barracuda, Kid Piranha or Fishboy. Just... no.
"You?" he simply asked to get the stranger's name in exchange. He didn't extend his arm for a handshake, since most people weren't too fond of touching his clammy and slightly fish-smelling hands. Less awkward to just not.

Speaking of awkward... it was hard to miss that the other guy was looking him over. Chris was used to people staring at him, but most tried to at least be discreet about it. It didn't give him the urge to run and hide anymore, but he still wasn't fond of it. So he met the other's eyes unblinkingly, hoping that his own stare would make the other man stop.
"And you, what do you do when you're not hunting down lousy thieves? Do you collect clothes?"

"The name is Malakai, and I do not collect clothes.  I am a fashion god, I can bring out anyone's inner super star, all with a few well placed high quality pieces of fabric and maybe some touches of make-up here and there" Malakai said as he continue to look at Chris.  The mutant staring back it him was no unnerving, the color of his eyes was actually giving Malakai more ideas for clothing.

"Red and gold go together quite nicely.  A high neck deep red pea-coat would make those yellow eyes pop, in a good way.  But then his skin is more gray than silver, so it might not look too hot.  I wonder if I could get him to spray on some body glitter, just a little might make the skin more appealing" he thought.

"So you say you fish?"  Malakai said, making small talk, his mind only half on the conversation.  He really wanted to ask Chris to strip so he could get the full view of his body and really plan out a nice outfit or five.  More was always best with Malakai.  He got the feeling though that Chris wouldn't be very receptive to the idea.  Besides, asking someone to strip in an alley had many implications, and he definitely didn't want the gray skinned mutant getting the wrong idea.  Short, gray and aquatic were not anywhere on Malakai's lists.

"If I got you a jacket, and maybe a couple of shirts, some pants and shoes, you wouldn't have to steal?" he asked.  No matter how materialistic he was, helping was also in his nature.  He hadn't tithed this month either, so this could offset that.  

Malakai certainly wasn't lacking confidence - this might have been the first time Chris had heard someone refer to themselves as a god of anything. But what he knew about fashion himself could be counted on the fingers on one hand, so he wasn't going to argue.
"I... I see."
The other man was pretty smartly dressed, as far as Chris could tell. Except for his shoes, that looked worse for wear after he'd been forced to walk through garbage during the chase.
"Sorry about your shoes," Chris muttered.

When Malakai asked if he was fishing, he just said "Yes." without any elaboration at all. Usually when you made small talk you'd explain a bit more and then ask a counter-question to find out if the person you were talking to had a similar opinion or enjoyed the same activities, but Chris hadn't gotten the hang of the finer points of the art of conversation.

His jaw dropped at Malakai's final question. Then his eyes narrowed slightly. The concept of random acts of kindness weren't new to him, people had helped him out in the past and even treated him to free food. Especially other mutants. But never someone he'd stolen from, which was enough to make him a bit wary.
"No, I wouldn't have to. It would be kind, but... why would you give me anything? I stole from you."
He'd probably sounded a bit ungrateful, or lacking of enthusiasm at the prospect of getting clothes from a self-addressed fashion god. But Malakai had phrased it "If I gave you clothes", so there was no point in getting his hopes up. And as for the enthusiasm... he didn't care much about his appearance and would rather wear clothes that made him pass unnoticed instead of making him stand out, which was why his entire wardrobe went in different hues of drab. He sincerely hoped that if Malakai really intended to give him some clothes it'd just be a couple of spare shirts and a jacket, the thought of bringing out his inner super star just made him nervous.